Throw Out The Books And Start Again
by ChaosChild92
Summary: Mike's trained to be quiet. Mike's learned to be shy. But when Kurt Hummel looks at him like he's the most important thing in the room is makes his heart swell, no matter what his parents think. SLASH. Don't flame, just let us be.


**Title: **It's Time To Change, Throw Out The Books And Start Again  
**Author: **Chaos  
**Beta: **None, tragically.  
**Pairings**: Mike/Kurt  
**Warnings: **Lack of parental acceptance, some sexual content.  
**Ratings: **PG/M?  
**Spoiler Warnings: **None. Every single piece of this takes place in my mind. Which I think is kind of sad...  
**Disclaimer****: **Not mine in even the remotest of senses. I simply play on the playground that others have constructed. Title/cut lyrics belong to the Corrs.

**Summary:** Mike's trained to be quiet. Mike's learned to be shy. But when Kurt Hummel looks at him like he's the most important thing in the room is makes his heart swell, no matter what his parents think.

**Author's Note: **Um. Not beta'ed. If anyone is willing to look over it for me I would be indebted to you.

This was written for a prompt on the kink meme somewhere which I have since lost. If anyone thinks they know the prompt I would be delighted if you'd let me know.

* * *

Mike's trained quiet. Mike's learned to be shy. He doesn't like to stand out too much or draw attention to himself because the risk of something bad happening as a result always seems too high. But when Kurt Hummel looks at him like he's the most important thing in the room it makes his heart swell.

Kurt's looking at him like that right now, from behind a veil of lust. Cheeks flushed and hair askew in a manner that normally wouldn't be allowed. That would normally be tamed back into submission with a few gallons of hairspray. But in this stolen moment it's allowed it's freedom. And Mike thinks he likes Kurt like this. Softer, warmer.

He backs off from where he's been lavishing attention on the tender skin of Kurt's neck (drinking up the noises he makes because they're his and his alone), secure in the knowledge that Kurt's dazzling array of scarves will nicely obscure any marks tomorrow. He sits up on the bed, grinning to himself as Kurt whines at him. He takes a moment to enjoy the view, all pale limbs askew where Mike's left him.

Then he settles with his back to the wall, patting the space between his spread thighs invitingly. Kurt sighs, but willingly rolls over, pulling himself onto his knees and crawling across the rumpled covers towards Mike, who takes a moment to muse on how very sexy it is.

He doesn't have long, because the bed is relatively small and Kurt reaches him quickly. He pulls his legs out from where they're trapped under his body, scooting closer to Mike and hooking his legs over the dancer's decidedly longer ones.

"Much better." He says softly, wrapping his arms more comfortably around Kurt and returning his attention to the singer's bruised lips.

Kurt mewls a little as he does so, one arm slipping up to dangle loosely over Mike's shoulder while a other slides up under his shirt, alternately stroking the skin with fingertips and short, perfectly manicured nails.

He gasps when Kurt drags those nails further up his chest, grazing lightly across one nipple. He pulls back just enough to see the wicked smirk on Kurt's face before he shifts his hands down, pulling Kurt's weight further forward so that he can slip his hands into the back pockets of his designer jeans.

Kurt's head drops forward onto his shoulder as he squeezes ever so slightly. He can feel Kurt swallowing and he lets up, his hands just sitting there as he waits patiently for the boy to recover.

"We don't have to-" He begins, words muffled by Kurt's messy hair, but he's cut off by footsteps in the hall.

Like a rabbit caught in the headlights his head whips around as he fixates on the door, his heart threatening to explode as the door handle turns in theatrical slow motion.

It swings open and his dad's standing there, mouth open to ask something, say something. Whatever it is Mike's never going to find out because his gaze lights on the tableau of Mike on the bed, Kurt pressed ridiculously close in his lap with one hand under his shirt (rucked up baring quivering stomach muscles and leaving him feeling intensely exposed) while both of Mike's are in a position of an unmistakeably sexual nature.

For a moment his dad's eyes widen, then his face goes absolutely blank.

Mike realises he's holding his breath and instinctively pulling Kurt as close as he can. He's not sure whether he's trying to protect his boyfriend or fighting the urge to hide behind him, but he can feel each of Kurt's breaths pushing against his hold.

"Michael, what is going on here?" Mike swallows. The tone is carefully neutral, as if he's sure there's a rational explanation for this. "Michael?" Mike looks away, not willing to meet his father's gaze. He's ashamed that Kurt is here to see this, ashamed that he didn't tell his dad earlier, ashamed he can't look at the man and ashamed of the little part of him that wants to throw Kurt away and beg for forgiveness.

"I see." The judgement in the words is terrible. It's the bang of a judge's gavel, the sound of a prison door sliding shut. The shush of a guillotine falling.

Then the shouting starts.

For a while Mike tries to abstract himself from the scene. Isolating his mind and coolly observing. Hateful words parting around him and leaving his thoughts clear. He's aware of the way that each word cuts as him, thin and sharp and calculated, but currently unaffected by it.

He's aware of the way Kurt slips off his lap, unselfconsciously straightening his clothes and patting his hair back into some semblance of order. He's aware of the utterly adorable (if only momentary) frown that Kurt gets when his hair won't sit just right.

He's aware of getting awkwardly off the bed when Kurt takes his hand (limbs both too stiff and too weak to take his weight) and gently pulls him to his feet. He's aware of the bored mask Kurt puts on as his father continues to rant, storming up and down in the tiny bedroom, and the concern revealed beneath it every time he glances at Mike.

He becomes less aware of these things as the words begin to rise around him (like floodwaters or stone walls), trapping him down in the dark where he's alone. Where his father's scorn pours in on him and he's helpless to escape.

He's not sure how long he remains trapped by his father's vitriol.

He only comes back to himself (slowly, like he's waking from a deep sleep or surfacing from clinging, suffocating liquid) after he realises that the shouting has stopped.

He becomes aware of Kurt speaking, voice perfectly reasonable but ice cold.

"-then no one is forcing you to. Now you're going to turn around and leave this room. Mike and I will pack up what he feels he needs to bring with him." Kurt looks around the room with an expression that conveys his complete and utter disdain not only for the sparse decoration but also the unwanted occupant. "And then we will get out of your hair."

Mike is aware of the shocked look on his father's face and the relief welling up inside him, where he's silently cheering Kurt on.

When Mr Chang looks at Mike with hard eyes Kurt steps forward.

Mike thinks he might make the tiniest of sounds when Kurt lets go of his hand, but he subsides when Kurt looks back at him, smiling reassuringly.

"The sooner you leave the sooner we'll be gone." He points out with steely cheer as he pushes Mr Chang through the door and firmly closes it behind him.

An instant later he's back across the room, pressed tightly against Mike's chest.

"I'm sorry." He whispers. "I'm so, so sorry." And Mike just strokes his hair, not willing or able to voice what he's feeling right now.

Eventually Kurt pulls away, wiping at what might be tears, before he sniffs and nods decisively.

"Now come on, let's get you out of here."

It doesn't take long to pack everything Mike wants to take with him (everything that's actually _him_) into a suitcase.

All the while Kurt keeps up a constant stream of chatter about how everything's going to be ok, how he can come and stay for as long as he likes. How Finn will be delighted to have another jock in the house to break the stalemate between Jane Austen adaptations and the football.

As he folds up his clothes and packs his computer and his books Mike can feel a weight lifting. Sure he's leaving home at sixteen and his parents might never speak to him again. And sure that hurts (oh how much it hurts, it feels like a part of him is being eaten away). But Kurt's beside him and everything's going to be ok.

When Kurt opens his window and lowers the suitcase gently to the lawn outside Mike is confused but willing to go along with it, climbing out the window after his boyfriend.

Because Kurt's looking after him like he's the most precious thing in the world and so maybe he doesn't have to be quiet and shy. Maybe he can just be Mike Chang.


End file.
